Justin's Choice
by Tuuli
Summary: ~COMPLETED~ My take on what happens after the end of season two. Brian's POV (seems to work best!)
1. Shouting Justin's Name

Author's notes: Another post-220, has nothing to do with my other fics. Brian's POV (seems to work best!)   
  
Now, I kind of like this one. How about you? Tell me! There will be at least 2 more chapters.  
  
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Justin's Choice part I: Shouting Justin's Name  
  
  
  
Actually, I *had* been faithful to Justin for a long time. Because, no matter whom I was fucking, or who was sucking me off, in my head... for Christ's sake, in my head it was always Justin. That's what I thought. It was automatic; I didn't plan it or want it to be so. So if I really thought, sometimes even truly *believed*, that I was with Justin, I wasn't really cheating on him, was I?   
  
I could have been monogamous, probably. If I had really wanted and needed to, I could have done it. But with Justin, fucking other guys had been the only thing I had had. The only way to tell him I was still independent. The only way to tell him he didn't own me, that he shouldn't expect anything from me. The only way to keep him from hurting me. Shit, even *that* hadn't worked, had it?   
  
And now, he was gone. If I had stopped tricking when he had first got himself into my life, what would I have done now? But I hadn't stopped tricking. And I had been perfectly happy with that once, so why wouldn't I be able to go back to my old life? I still had my friends, my job, and my tricks. A little bit of E every once in a while made me a new man.   
  
As I let my newest fuck unbutton my pants, I wished I had been high. I was so tired. It would've made me feel better. But, it was too late now; I'd just fuck this guy and get on with it.   
  
This guy, like so many guys I had had lately, was dark-haired and muscular. He was almost as tall as me. A few days earlier I had realized I had been picking up dark-haired guys a lot lately. Even if I knew it was because I wanted to get over Justin and had guys who were as far from him as possible, I wouldn't admit it to myself.   
  
As far from Justin as possible, yes, definitely. But not all of that was just a good thing. This guy, he was clumsy, low-voiced and didn't probably even know what 'fuck' meant. Even in his middle-twenties, he seemed inexperienced, or maybe just not talented. Maybe he just didn't care and was a lousy fuck because of that.   
  
I tore his clothes off and pushed him on the bed. I had only one thing in my mind; I had to get off. I practically chanted that in my head, so that the *other* thought would stay as far away from my consciousness as possible.   
  
Sometimes I would get lost in the feeling of fucking so completely that I'd do my normal things, touch the spots I had learned to touch, and be surprised not to hear the moans I had gotten so used to. Then, when I realized I wasn't with my usual fuck, I'd feel down again. My usual fuck, yeah, that was it. My usual fuck. Nothing more, nothing less.   
  
This guy was awfully quiet. Fuck! Say something, goddamn it! This doesn't feel good? You don't feel good? Well fuck you! I bit the skin of his neck. To hell with it, I don't feel good either.   
  
I decided he had had his bit of foreplay and told him to turn around. After preparing us both I just grabbed his hips. It wasn't much of a warning but it was all he got before I thrust into him, feeling the heat but not the usual tightness. I almost cried out as I again thought this wasn't Justin. I wasn't sure if the moan was because of the physical pleasure I was experiencing or the pain. What pain? This wasn't Justin and it would never be Justin again. Not Justin, not Justin, not Justin...   
  
My movements became quicker and quicker with each thrust. But somehow I also felt sick to my stomach at the same time. I tried to concentrate on the good feelings, just the good ones. I was close, I knew it, so I just closed my eyes and let it happen, hoping it would all be over soon. I lost everything around myself as I came, and for a second, I felt okay. As the waves of pleasure left me, I let myself fall on the bed, breathing hard. I realized I hadn't done anything to get my trick off, but I just didn't give a fuck.  
  
I felt him get off the bed and heard him start dressing again. I was glad I didn't need to tell him to. He walked out without another word.  
  
Shortly after he had left, I got up and went to check on the alarm. I leaned on a wall, just trying to calm down. I couldn't fucking believe it. I had shouted Justin's name when I had come. That's why I hadn't started wondering what was wrong when the trick had got quiet; he had just been so confused. I had shouted Justin's name...  
  
I started back towards the bedroom but then stopped. Even the thought of the bed felt dirty. How could I go back into our... *my* bed after fucking some trick? Fuck, it was my bed, *my* bed, *mine*! For fuck's sake... I was totally losing it.   
  
So there was only one option. The couch. I'd sleep on the fucking couch. Just because I was a fucking weak-minded pervert who couldn't sleep in his own goddamn bed!   
  
This was the only time I was going to sleep on the couch. I'd get over it. I'd get over Justin. I'd be able to fuck again without feeling restless and shitty afterwards... Wouldn't I?   
  
Shit...   
  
Sleep finally came to take me. I surrendered myself to it. I wanted to get the fuck out of this world, and sleep was now the best way to do it. Tomorrow I'd get my hands on some E, I promised myself. When I was half-asleep already, I unconsciously let the name slip from my lips one more time. The name of the blond one. The blond who had once loved me.   
  
~Feedback more than appreciated~ 


	2. No Strings Attached

I had my guard up again. I wasn't going to let Justin get any sign of emotion from me. He had already got too much from me. Besides - he was no longer a part of my life. He no longer loved me. He loved his Ethan now.  
  
This time, it was just sex. Just sex. Sex was all I had ever wanted from him, right? So here it was. He was offering it to me, willingly. And I didn't need to do anything romantic, because his beloved violinist took care of that. It was just sex with Justin now - no strings attached whatsoever.   
  
So I had seen him at Babylon. It had been like any other night. He had carefully avoided me all night, but I had known all the time where he had been and what he had been doing, for I had wanted to know whether he had been there to dance or to fuck. I had finally come to the conclusion he had been there to dance and, conveniently, I had started to dance too. It hadn't taken long until we had been dancing pretty much together. The next thing I knew - I was holding him in my arms in... *my* bed. After another round of rough sex he had got nervous, muttered something about having to go and disappeared. I thought it had been a one-night-only kind of exclusive thing and was very surprised to see him at Woody's a bit more than a week later. We ended up fucking, again.   
  
Now we were doing it pretty much regularly. He'd show up two or three times a week, I'd take him home and we'd fuck. Then he'd rest in my arms for a while and go. The Boy Wonder was back in my life, only this time we didn't have rules or any crap like that. I was free to trick all I wanted.   
  
So it was weird that I had stopped tricking almost completely.   
  
Of course I'd fuck someone in the backroom, or let someone blow me, but I never took guys home. For Christ's sake, when had I become of full-time lover of Justin? Fuck! I was starting to sound like a straight guy - or worse yet, a straight teenage *girl*. Fuck.   
  
I knew I could've broken up with him any time; he wasn't any fucking drug I was addicted to. He wasn't, damn it! *I* was like a drug to him - why else would he have risked everything he had with Ethan to be with me?  
  
Because he wanted to get laid and knew what I could do?   
  
Jesus! This was weird enough without me thinking about some straight bullshit. The entire situation was so ironic, so *perverted*! First, there's me - I'm with Justin, or, well, something like that. Ethan comes in and gets to do the lover part. Then Justin goes to him and suddenly I'm the lover here.   
  
When the *fuck* did I change from the love of his life to his dirtiest secret?   
  
Was this what it had been like before? Ethan wondering if Justin would ever spend the night? Fuck, I wondered if Justin showered before he crawled into bed with Ethan. He never did, spend the night that is. Every night he got up and left, saying nothing more. Occasionally he whispered me a 'good night' but that was it. The minute we kissed for the first time each night I knew all the talking had already been done.   
  
Usually he showed up pretty early. That was because we needed to start early to finish early. He had a boyfriend to go to and was clearly trying to keep him from noticing he had been gone. Tonight, however, he had showed up a little bit later than he usually did. I had already stopped waiting for him, thinking he wasn't coming, and was checking out a young, cute guy, trying to figure out if he was capable of a decent blowjob. Then he got there. He didn't seem as nervous as usually. The minute I saw him I forgot about the guy I had been watching and went straight to him, trying to keep the boys from seeing him.   
  
We made it to the loft in no time.   
  
With Justin, I always knew when to take it slow and when to make it rough. Tonight he looked like he needed to be... I mean, needed it slow. He seemed tired. I did my best to get him to relax.   
  
Afterwards he wrapped an arm around me. Somehow I had got used to him doing that after we had fucked. I knew he wouldn't stay. I quietly kissed his forehead and drew lazy circles on his back. Then he surprised me by falling asleep.   
  
"Justin... Justin, wake up," I said, "Are you sure you want to fall asleep here?"   
  
He seemed to wake up and lifted his head to look at me. He was really sleepy and apparently his first thought was that I was pissed, because he said, "Sorry... I'll go. I just thought... fuck. I'll just go."  
  
He started to get up, but I grabbed his arm.   
  
"You thought what?"  
  
He seemed to hesitate. Then he said, "Well, Ethan's out of town and I was kind of hoping I could..."  
  
"Spend the night?"   
  
To me I sounded surprised, but apparently he understood it differently.   
  
"Yeah, I was stupid, if you let go of my arm I'll just go," he said, not looking at me.   
  
"No, stay if you like. I'm not expecting anyone... c'mon, it's Friday night, I don't even have to go to work in the morning."  
  
Where the fuck had that come from? I decided I'd shut up before I started crying or something even worse. But, when he asked, "You really want me to stay?" I answered without any hesitation at all, "Yes." I wanted to kill myself. So much for good decisions. I made myself add, "If you leave now you'll just get robbed or killed before you make it to your place - and I won't take responsibility of *that*." I hoped I sounded like I was joking, at least a bit.  
  
Justin didn't see it like I was joking. He looked like he didn't know anything anymore. "No, if you don't want me here, I can just go."  
  
Before I had time to react, he had freed himself from my grip and was putting on his shirt. I said, "No, Justin, please stay, for Christ's sake Iloveyou." Fuck! I didn't just say that, did I? It wasn't even true goddamn it! Great, Kinney, lie to the boy about something like that. I couldn't fucking believe myself, believe I had just said that!  
  
Neither could he. He stopped and turned his head to look at me. "What did you say?"   
  
I panicked. "I just asked you to stay," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.   
  
"Oh... I thought I heard you say... never mind."   
  
He was still standing but had stopped dressing. I bit the inside of my cheek. What the fuck was wrong with me? I told myself to stop thinking about that, if I didn't do something quickly Justin would leave. Getting Justin to stay was more important than my mental health at the moment.   
  
I grabbed his wrist and pulled him closer. I was sitting on the bed, he was standing next to it. I took off his shirt with gentle movements. He didn't try to stop me. I pulled him closer and kissed him. "You have no one to go to," I said in my most gentle voice, "So you might as well stay." I kissed him again, longer this time, and between kisses I whispered, "Stay."   
  
It wasn't until we had had sex again that I was able to think. He had fallen asleep in my arms. I listened to him breathe. What was happening to me? Okay. I had wanted him to stay so desperately that I had been ready to say anything?   
  
Don't give yourself bullshit, Kinney. You... You fucking love him. Justin Taylor. I let my eyes close. It hurt, the thought that I loved him. I loved him, Justin Taylor. That goddamn kid who had fucked up my life.   
  
I bit my tongue. No one would ever know that. No one would ever know that Brian Kinney had actually fallen in love. Fuck, what a pathetic thing to do. What a *straight* or a *lesbian* thing to do! Love hurts - true. But it's very mildly said. Love gives you the pain nothing else can; it turns you inside out and makes you sick. It takes away the person you are and replaces you with a robot that can't think, eat or sleep. That's what love does to you. It gives you a small amount of pleasure and a hell of a lot of shit.  
  
For fuck's sake! I didn't even *believe* in love! There was no such fucking thing as love! It was just some straight shit, a myth that controlled every fucking straight person's world. Love. No. So how was it possible I was in love? No, I wasn't 'in love'; I just 'loved him.'   
  
If I told Justin I loved him, would he come back to me? Was that what I wanted? Fuck, talking about wanting, I would never be able to give *him* what he wanted. For Christ's sake, he was better off with Ethan. He was happy with him, right? I'd never hurt Justin consciously like that, take him away from the person he loved and was happy with. Ethan. It was Justin's choice. This was what he really wanted from me and what I knew I was able to give him: sex. Just sex. This was our balance, no strings attached. This was up to Justin to decide, and he had chosen Ethan.  
  
He didn't want me anymore.  
  
I wondered if he showered before he crawled into bed with him.  
  
~Feedback more than appreciated~  
  
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Author's notes: Dedicated to Sivan, who insisted I write this. Love you girl. :) 


	3. Sixth Sense

A while ago, if Justin had just showed up at my doorstep unannounced, my first reaction would've been, 'What do you want?' or 'What the fuck are you doing here?' But now, what I said first was, "Justin, are you alright?"   
  
"I'm fine," he told me. "Can I come in?"   
  
I was everything but convinced but let him in. "What's up?"   
  
"Oh, nothing, you know, nothing special. I didn't think you'd be home."   
  
"Yeah? Then why did you come?"  
  
"Guess I hoped you would be."   
  
"Yeah well, I've had a fucking headache all day." It *was* true, it was because of the headache that I hadn't gone to Woody's like Mikey had suggested. That and... I had figured Justin wouldn't be showing up since he had been with me the night before.   
  
"I didn't mean to disturb you," he said quietly. He hesitated a bit but then sat down.   
  
"You're not disturbing me. But, um... why exactly are you here?" I looked briefly at the papers on the table. Well, fuck work. I sat down too.  
  
"Well, I... Shit, I don't want to talk about it." He looked at me, or at some part of my face, but not directly into my eyes.   
  
I wanted to push it, but figured it wouldn't have done any good. Then a new thought struck me, and before I had time to stop myself, I asked, "Did you fight with your boyfriend?"   
  
He lowered his gaze. There was some sort of a weird, sad smile on his lips. "How did you know?"   
  
However, I didn't like that smile of his. I wanted his sunshine smile back. For fuck's sake. I tried to be playful and said, "It was my sixth sense."  
  
He laughed a little, quietly, sadly. "He has a sixth sense too, you know. He knows we've been... I've been..."  
  
"Cheating on him?" I offered. Fuck playful.  
  
"Seeing you," he said and forced a smile. This time I even caught his eyes before he started to study his hands again.   
  
Sorry, Justin, I didn't mean to hurt you, it's really none of my business if you cheat on him. "So what did he say?" C'mon Justin, did he say it was either him or me?   
  
"That he... didn't want to have to share me. That he understood, but didn't want to share me."   
  
"He kicked you out?"   
  
He shrugged. How could he not know if his boyfriend had kicked him out? "I kind of stormed out before he had time to say more."   
  
"I see." What the fuck was I supposed to tell him? Was he here to ask me if I'd take him back? Or was I just conveniently there? Whatever... or was he here to be fucked? I rolled my eyes before closing them. I was so fucking tired of all this hetero shit.   
  
"Your head hurts, huh?" he asked. Well, duh!   
  
"Yeah..."   
  
I kept my eyes closed and heard him get closer. He started to rub my shoulders and neck gently. Jesus, I had missed that. He had such strong goddamn fingers... I moaned very quietly, just trying to encourage him to go on.   
  
"Feel good?"   
  
"Yeah..."   
  
I was glad he didn't start to babble about that Ethan guy of his. I wouldn't have been able to take it. I wanted him so fucking badly. Now, if his boyfriend had kicked him out, did he want to come back to me? For fuck's sake, I couldn't even gather my strength and ask him! No one rejects Brian Kinney. No one, not even Boy Wonder. No one. If I had asked him and he had rejected me, I would have gone crazy. Yeah yeah... love. Fuck love. Fucking is so much more efficient. Speaking of which...  
  
I covered his hand with my own and turned around to face him. I looked at him in the eye, as if I was asking for permission. He looked tired - but also like he wanted me. So I kissed him, softly first. Traced his lips, sucked on his tongue. I made him moan into my mouth. Justin, I love you. Come back to me.   
  
That was the second time he spent the night.  
  
~~~  
  
I *definitely* needed someone to fuck. Someone to *really* fuck, nothing slow and sensual. Tonight, I needed it rough. Justin had gone back to his boyfriend in the morning, just thanking me for letting him stay with a kiss. We hadn't even had sex; he had left when I had still been half asleep. So I had showered, alone, gone to work and worked my ass off to make a fucking client change his mind about going to some other company. The same fucking client had also bitched at me for hours. Shit... Weekend had never seemed this far away, not even on fucking Monday.   
  
So, whenever I needed a trick, it was Babylon I headed for. It was all about music there, almost naked men dancing with each other... it had never bored me like that. I wasn't interested in dancing. I wasn't interested in the men dancing. All I was interested in was a young blonde, even if he had the weirdest haircut ever. Whatever, I didn't care about people's hair. I wasn't a fucking hairdresser. But he had a nice ass, that's what I liked. I thought I'd take him with me, fuck him as long as I wanted to, then kick him out and, if I was lucky, get some sleep. Probably wouldn't. I didn't get enough sleep these days. Well, fuck sleeping. There are more important things to do. Like fucking.   
  
I could remember when I had actually *enjoyed* choosing whom I would fuck and going to him and taking him home. Now, it seemed just boring. I just wanted to fuck him, without any crap. Maybe I could take him in the backroom? Fuck no, I felt like a bit of privacy. But, I had to convince him to come with me, so I flashed him my most charming smile and went to talk to him.   
  
It was the first time in ages that I took a trick home. As I drove us to my loft, the trick started chitchatting about what a nice neighbourhood it was. I just rolled my eyes parked the jeep before getting out. I didn't look around, that was my mistake. If I had, I would've seen a bit disappointed Justin standing in the shadows, hoping I would see him. But no, I just pushed the trick into the building and followed him without looking back.   
  
~Feedback more than appreciated~  
  
Author's notes: What's wrong with you people? Don't you have any opinion on my stories here? C'mon, let me know - review or e-mail me directly at tuuli1@nic.fi. Please! I'm begging you! There will be one more part... I think. :) 


	4. Make The Pain Go Away

Plan A: I tell him I love him. He stays. Plan B: I fuck him until he forgets his name and *then* I ask him if he really wants to stay with this Ethan. Was it even Ethan? Fuck it. Anyway, if he says yes, I'll fuck him again until he changes his mind, even if that means I'll have to fuck him for a year.  
  
We were in the car, driving to my loft. He was so fucking tense. Didn't look at me, didn't smile, didn't even talk much. Didn't laugh when I tried to joke. Well, fuck him. Which was exactly what I was planning on doing.   
  
Once we got to the loft I entered casually, expecting him to do the same. Instead he stayed by the door, looking around as if it was his first time there.  
  
"Are you going to stand there all night?" I finally asked, nonchalantly.  
  
Only then did he step inside.  
  
"Brian, I..." He sighed and looked away. "I can't see you anymore. Sorry."  
  
I had seen this coming, so I had been prepared. Though I hadn't expected his words to make me want to puke.  
  
"Sorry? Are you sorry about it? Let me guess. it was your beloved violinist who told you to choose."  
  
And you chose him.  
  
"Something like that," he said, looking at me strangely. Then he glanced away and added, "And I *am* sorry."  
  
"Well, don't be. You do what you choose to. If you want to keep seeing me... It's up to you. It's your choice," I said with confidence and arrogance I didn't feel.   
  
"My choice?" he asked and raised his voice, obviously not realizing it. "I'm just a whore to you, Brian! And I don't want to live with that."  
  
I raised an eyebrow, challenging him to continue.  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Yes! I... I thought... Fuck! I broke up with Ethan, did you know that?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"I chose *you*."  
  
Jesus fucking Christ! "W... What? You left Ethan for me?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"And now you're leaving me too?"  
  
"Well... Yes."  
  
For Christ's sake, "Why?"  
  
He turned away. Then, quietly, he answered, "Because I was stupid. I thought... things were better between us. So... I come to see you. And what do I see? I see you, with a trick."  
  
I swallowed a grimace. The first time in fucking *weeks* I have a trick and he sees it? Shit. Go on, Kinney, tell him, take him. Before I had time to say anything, he continued. I wasn't really disappointed, you know. The minute I left Ethan's apartment I started thinking that you were probably out somewhere, looking for a fuck. And I started to see where I had been wrong."  
  
"Justin..."  
  
"I had been wrong about everything. I wasn't the only one you fucked, now was I? I wasn't enough."  
  
He kept his eyes on the floor, even though I doubted he saw anything. My mind was whirling like crazy and I just couldn't think. It would've been an ideal moment to tell him, but I let it slip away.  
  
"It's better this way. I'll ask Debbie if she'll let me stay with her again. I won't bother you again," he said coolly, almost coldly.  
  
I lost it. Suddenly I just realized I was yelling, "What the fuck is it that you want?! Faithfulness? No tricking? Is that it? You want me to be your well-trained little boyfriend with a ride to school and a goodbye kiss? Paying for your living, your clothes, your school?"  
  
I wanted him to tell me no. I wanted him to tell me I was all he wanted, all he needed. I wanted him to make the pain go away.  
  
"I don't know what the fuck I want, Brian! I used to think I wanted *you*! But no, I do *not* want some fucking sugar daddy to take care of me!" he spat.  
  
He turned around and headed for the loft door. I took two giant steps forward and grabbed his arm.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" I asked, staring at him with anger.  
  
"Where'd you think? How the fuck should *I* know! To Debbie's?" he responded, trying to wriggle free.  
  
"You're not. You're staying. Whether you like it or not, I'm going to fuck you now."  
  
He stopped struggling. "What if I don't want you to? Are you going to *rape* me then?" he asked, challenging me.  
  
"Oh yeah, you came all the way here just to tell me it was *over* between us, without any intentions of getting laid, is that right?"  
  
And then I kissed him. I kissed him so roughly that he started to moan, and I doubted it had anything to do with pleasure. Only then did I loosen my grip. I asked him, "Are you sure you mind me fucking you?"  
  
And he didn't. This time, he kissed me.  
  
~~~  
  
"Brian Kinney doesn't do love." Fuck that. "Brian Kinney has the balls to do anything." Fuck that, too.  
  
Justin was sleeping peacefully in my arms, breathing evenly, his body pressed against mine. I felt so fucking safe. And yet I felt like shit. I'd made him break up with his lover. He'd come back to me only to find me with a trick. Fuck! So I had fucked it up. I could've had him.  
  
So I had given up on my let-him-be-with-Ethan-he'll-be-happier-that-way shit. Call me selfish, I don't give a fuck! All I wanted was to have Justin back in my fucking life. however, I was *not* going to start playing some ideal boyfriend with roses and yada yada. All I had to offer was me. And my love. See? No trouble admitting it. Okay, so no trouble admitting it to myself. Brian Kinney gets what he wants.  
  
What if it wasn't enough, though? What if wanting him back wasn't enough? The three words I had to give him, the three fucking words I still couldn't say to him, what if they weren't enough? And I'd probably never even know, goddamn it! I couldn't tell him. I didn't have the balls to tell him I loved him. And what if he wanted something more? What if he *was* after the "ideal boyfriend"?  
  
Kinney, keep yourself together. If he really needed that "ideal boyfriend," he wouldn't have broken up with Ethan in the first place, now would he?  
  
Justin, tell me, what do I have to do to keep you?  
  
I didn't have a plan whatsoever. Fuck. I needed a drink. Fast.  
  
If he'd only stay, I thought, at least for a couple of days. Just a couple of fucking days! That was all I asked for - for right now, at least. I got out of bed, trying not to wake the boy. I went to the kitchen. Only a fucking prick needed to get himself a drink at this time of night! Hell, I couldn't sleep anyway. So I might as well work. Shit. Work, Justin, work, Justin. My fucking life in a fucking nutshell. Only... now it was about to become work, work, work, work.  
  
I fell asleep at about four thirty am. In the morning, I woke up only to find Justin sitting on the bed, not looking at me. I tried to touch him, but he turned away.  
  
"Brian..."  
  
Now what? "Yeah?" I said, hoping it sounded encouraging.  
  
"Would you... Would you let me stay, just for a day or two, so that I can make some kind of a deal with Deb?" He didn't look at me. Hesitatingly, he added, "I mean, I don't expect anything from you, but I *really* don't have anywhere to go."  
  
I could've said, 'Sure, stay as long as you like." I could've said, 'I love you, please don't ever leave me again.' Instead, I said, "Whatever, stay if you must."  
  
And then I wanted to kick myself. Hard. But at least now I had a chance to make it all better. To make the pain go away.  
  
~Feedback more than appreciated~  
  
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Author's notes: Thanks to Cael for the beta, you did a great job. And PLEASE feed me. Sivan, I'll never forget you. 


	5. Not Nearly Enough

Would he be cooking? Sketching? Taking a nap? Listening to music? Doing his homework? I was about to unlock the door but hesitated. What would happen tonight? Would we fuck? Would we talk? Would he just grab his jacket and go out? Would he piss me off so badly that I'd just grab my jacket and go out to find someone else to fuck? Oh no, no, no. Not in a million years would I trick while he was staying with me.  
  
He had been living at the loft for what, three days? He hadn't been there much. He had had school, a shift at the diner, he had gone to see Daphne, he had hung out with the boys... He just hadn't been there. Today I knew he was there. Well, at least I hoped he was. Whatever. I wanted to talk to him, fuck him, watch TV with him, anything, even fight with him if necessary. I just needed a reaction out of him. The first night after he had asked if he could stay he had insisted on sleeping on the couch. I had let him, even if I hadn't wanted him to. The next night... let's just say I had made sure he had already been in bed when he had fallen asleep.   
  
I wondered again what he might be doing. Where he would be sitting. Would he be happy, angry, tired? I unlocked the door slowly and opened it quietly, taking a look around. I saw something I had *not* been expecting. He was lying face down in the middle of the fucking floor.   
  
"Justin!" I shouted without thinking and threw my bag and my jacket on the floor, practically running to him. "Jesus fucking Christ!" I shouted as I turned him around to lie on his back. His eyes were closed. I searched for a pulse for what seemed like years but couldn't find one on his wrist. I was just about to listen to his chest when he coughed quietly and turned his head towards me without opening his eyes. I let out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding and just sat on the fucking floor for a moment, unable to move. Then I shook him, gently. When that didn't have any effect on him, I shook him more firmly. Finally, Justin opened his eyes. He looked in my direction but had trouble focusing his eyes on me.   
  
"Hey," he whispered when he finally recognized me and gave me a weak smile. "Did I pass out?"   
  
For fuck's sake, he wasn't injured. He was just... drunk. I had never seen him so fucking drunk. I had thought something was really wrong with him, damn it. He had actually scared the shit out of me, but no, he was just *drunk*!   
  
For a moment I thought of getting up and leaving him there on the floor, but then I decided to help him to bed instead. Hell, if I had left him there I could have stepped on his hand or something like that. Shit. How do I handle a drunken Justin? The kid should come with a fucking manual.   
  
"Yes, you passed out," I told him angrily and grabbed a good hold of his arm, lifting him to his unsteady feet. But when I tried to lead him to the bedroom, he refused to even try to walk.   
  
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked with an innocent look in his eyes.   
  
"I'm putting you to bed," I told him and tried to drag him with me again.  
  
"I don't want you to," he announced proudly, trying to wriggle free from my grip.   
  
I stopped. We just stood there, Justin leaning heavily on me, his smile and eyes clouded by alcohol. I looked down at him and asked, "Don't you want to sleep?"  
  
"I shouldn't sleep in your bed. I know you don't really want me to sleep in your bed," he said, a sad, drunken look replacing his drunken smile. "You don't want me here at all, do you?"   
  
I sighed. I was in a position where I could say anything and he wouldn't remember it later on. "I want you here, Justin, even if I don't tell you that too often."   
  
"Liar," he said, lifting his chin.   
  
"Come *on*!" I tried, pulling him with me a few steps towards the bedroom again. Then he just refused to go any further.   
  
"Let go of me!" he yelled, yanking his arm away. Without my support, he fell heavily to the floor. Apparently he was too tired to try and get up again, so he just lay there. I knelt down next to him.   
  
This was *not* how this night was supposed to go. Fuck, I didn't even *know* how the fucking night was supposed to go. Oh yeah, actually I did; he was supposed to be cooking, we were supposed to eat, then we were supposed to fuck and then he was supposed to tell me he was staying. Yeah right, like that'd have happened anyway.   
  
"Justin..." I said hesitantly, trying to sooth him. "How much have you had?"   
  
"Not nearly enough," he said arrogantly. "Not nearly enough, since I still feel the fucking pain." He said it with a smile, making it look like he was talking about how beautiful the fucking weather was.   
  
I was somewhat surprised by his words, but still wanted to get a reaction from him - a reaction that was from him and not the alcohol - so I encouraged him to keep on talking by saying, "What pain?"  
  
He shook his head slowly, dreamily, from side to side, with a smile on his lips. "The pain... you know... I get to be here, in your place... I get to see you every day... I get to be fucked by you occasionally... but you're still... *not*... mine. And you never... will be."   
  
What? "What are you saying?" I asked aloud. Then I added sarcastically, "That you're still 'head over heels' in love with me?"  
  
"Yes!" he laughed. "I love you, Brian Kinney, I love you more than I've ever loved anyone." He laughed again, only this time it actually sounded happy.   
  
Do you? Oh fuck, Justin's 'positive attitude' had apparently changed me. I actually felt *hope* when he said his words. Fuck, I didn't want to hope. The kid had really changed me, and I didn't like it a fucking bit. Don't hope, don't trust, don't believe. Fuck you, Justin, for changing me. "Then why don't you stay here, permanently?"  
  
"Yeah right! Like you'd like that! You don't want me here, do you?" Now he was already giggling. "You don't love me," he added softly, looking at me straight in the eye.  
  
"Yes, Justin, I want you here." Then I said the words I had been telling him in my dreams every night since we had started seeing each other again. "I love you."   
  
It was easy to say them, those three fucking words; he wouldn't remember them in the morning. And he knew it, he looked at me and stated, "Why don't you fucking tell me that when I'm *sober*?"   
  
Because it's too fucking hard. "Maybe I will." I knew I wouldn't.   
  
"Do you mean that? Do you really love me? Say it again, it sounded so good coming from your pretty mouth," he said, trying to touch my lips with his fingers but missing them and touching my cheek instead.   
  
"I love you, Justin Taylor." Fuck, that was easy. I felt like I was playing some stupid game. I kissed him lightly.  
  
"Oh that's good. Now take me to our bed so that I can get some sleep, will you, honey?" He giggled again and said, "That sounded good, too. *Honey*. Mind if I call you 'honey'?"  
  
I sighed and shook my head a bit amused, then lifted him off the floor and carried him easily to my - our bed. The moment he felt the mattress underneath him he began to doze off. By the time I'd gotten him out of his jeans and shirt he was already asleep. I lay down next to him and whispered one more time, "I love you." I couldn't help but smirk at the sad irony. He wouldn't remember a single fucking thing in the morning.  
  
~Feedback more than appreciated~ 


	6. Power

A/N: Wow... see? I finally finished it! So, what do you think? Review or mail me directly at tuuli1@nic.fi... understood? Good. Now let's see... Big thanks to Cael, my wonderful beta. And I have *no* idea where this came from, I just put it on paper and got on with it. Now I'll have time to go thru some of the Harry Potter ideas in my head... *evil grin* now enjoy and tell the girl how you feel!  
  
~~~  
  
He remembered. I was so damn sure he remembered. Sometimes he looked at me like he was wondering what went on inside my head, and that's when I knew. His eyes, those fucking pretty blue eyes, they gave it all away.  
  
I was so fucking exhausted, trying to hold onto him, not wanting to let him go. I had been dropping hints for what felt like an eternity, trying to make him see. And now, I was sure he did. He knew. He knew I loved him. And he had yet to move to Debbie's, as he had said he eventually would.   
  
I had been a fucking idiot, thinking if I could only make him see I love him, everything would be okay. Well, fuck that. Now there was tension between us. He knew, but I wasn't sure if he knew I knew he knew. And... things were just going to hell. We fought, and we *never* fought. Not like that, anyway. Not so that I didn't fucking know if I was supposed to laugh or cry and I just wanted to kill him - but not before I had first fucked him. Made love to him. No, fucked him. That sounded *much* better.   
  
Okay, want to hear me say it? Fine. What shall I say? Just tell me what to say and I'll repeat it. "Oh, you know I love you, right?" Or how about, "You are my sunshine, please don't ever leave me, I love you!" Pathetic. Just like everything else in this goddamn place. The fucking loft is pathetic - I am pathetic. I could end it all, right now. He'd come home - or well, *here* - and find my goddamn body lying there in the middle of the fucking floor. How about that? How about that indeed...  
  
I could hang myself. I could take all the drugs in the fucking loft, it'd be enough to kill an army. I could shoot myself; only I didn't have a gun. Who'd be there to miss me?  
  
Now Kinney; I thought you were over this. Get a fucking grip. You want him? Fine. Admit it to yourself. You need him. You need him badly.   
  
And then he came home. And I didn't even realize I had thought of my loft as his home. And the minute he kissed me and smiled at me, I felt better. It was amazing, the amount of power he had over me. He controlled my actions, my thoughts, even my goddamn emotions. I hated him for that. I loved him for that.   
  
Justin, I love you. "Justin, I..."  
  
He lifted his gaze and looked me in the eye, looking relaxed and happy, like always. He was always in a good mood. Well, he had been, lately.   
  
"I told Mikey I'd meet him at Babylon... I'll see you later." Fucking. Coward. Kinney.   
  
I left. I got to Babylon, and Mikey *was* there. We hadn't had any plans. But he was there, and I was so glad for that. I guess it was him who took me home when I was so drunk I couldn't tell black from white.   
  
And even if it hadn't been Mikey, at least *someone* had taken me home. I woke up in my own fucking bed the next day, very late, and next to me there was lying a very, *very* happy Justin.   
  
"Oh god... whatthefuckhappened?" I mumbled.  
  
"You were drunk." God how I loved his voice when it was a bit cocky like that. "And... do you remember anything?"  
  
"Yeah, I remember meeting Mikey. After that... it's pretty blurry." I looked at him. There was a sparkle in his eyes. Uh-oh... what have I done now?   
  
"You don't remember yelling at... well, talking to me?"   
  
"No. What did I say? Was it something important?" Apparently, since he was that anxious.   
  
"You told me that... you love me."   
  
Oh. "I told you that?"   
  
"Yeah." There was a long pause. I was thinking furiously about whether I should tell him - whether I *could* tell him - and he was probably thinking about whether or not it had been true. Then he opened his pretty mouth and asked, hesitantly, "Do you?"  
  
Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. No. Yes. "Yes. I love you."   
  
That was so fucking easy I don't believe I just said that oh fuck I'm screwed please Justin stop looking at me like that oh for fuck's sake where can I go and hide?  
  
His face lit up and he leaned in to kiss me, but couldn't make it deep and passionate so he made it rough and quick because he was just - so - goddamn - happy.   
  
"I knew it," he said. "I heard you say that once when I was leaving. And... I remember something. I must've been drunk, but I remember you told me so. I don't know when it happened, though..."  
  
There was happiness in those blue eyes. Happiness I had made happen.   
  
"Yeah well... what is it with us and alcohol anyway?" Iloveyousofuckingmuch. "I still don't believe I told you, I can usually keep my mouth shut pretty well, even when I'm drunk," I commented absent-mindedly.  
  
"I know," he said and looked down.  
  
And that's when *I* knew, too. The little shit, he had lied to me. He had fucking lied to me. I hadn't said a word. I *never* said a word when I was drunk. *Never*. He had tricked me. Justin, that goddamn innocent-looking kid, had tricked me into telling him what he already knew. He had... tricked me into making my fucking life a lot more bearable. He... he loved me.   
  
"So... you're staying, right?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow.   
  
"If you want me to, yes," he answered.   
  
"It's your choice, but... yeah, I want you to."   
  
"It's my choice? I choose you."  
  
It was amazing, the power he had over me. The previous night I had been thinking about killing myself - now all I could think about was how fucking happy I was. Just because he knew. And wanted and loved me. And was staying. I couldn't believe how fucking easy everything had been in the end. Jesus fucking Christ... it was just so fucking amazing.  
  
~Feedback more than appreciated~ 


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